


Short And Sweet

by Gilded_Pleasure



Series: Good Intentions [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 100-word Drabbles, 30 days of Domestic fluff, A Personal Challenge To See If I Can Control My Goddamn Word Count, And because it's me, But Uhhh You Know Kinda Messed Up Cause It's Kustard, Domestic Fluff, Drabbles, Other, kustard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilded_Pleasure/pseuds/Gilded_Pleasure
Summary: 100-word drabbles about Sans and Red being smartassed dumpster possums hopelessly in love with each other.There will be 30 of them, each based off a prompt from a list.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Good Intentions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844599
Comments: 396
Kudos: 130





	1. Waking Up Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompts I'm using are from this "[30 Days of Domestic Fluff](https://melonmachinery.tumblr.com/post/130275833173/30-days-of-domestic-fluff)" list; the prompts are the chapter titles.

Sans blinks his sockets open, woken by his own voice whimpering in fear. Red stirs on top of him, bones stacked like cordwood on their sleepin’ couch. Sans takes scarred bone fingers into his.

“s’okay,” he rumbles; Red breathes in jerky huffs like a cat that forgot how to purr. Sans pulls Red’s phalanges to the leather collar around Sans's neck. Red settles immediately, his own intent reminding him where he is and why, no words necessary. Sans shuts his sockets, fixed grin settling into a sleepy smile.

  
The best part of waking up together is going back to sleep.


	2. Morning Routine

Red’s awoken by the clink of pottery against his forehead. Hot pottery.

His sockets open.

“th’ fuck you get that?” he grates at Sans, still prone beneath him as he presents the steaming mug of coffee. He smells a healthy slug of his favorite whiskey in there, too. No way Sans could have snuck off, Red’s senses are too keen. He’s a viper, a lone wolf, a knife in the dark.

“can’t give away _all_ my secrets, pumpkin,” Sans drawls smugly. “gotta keep ya interested.”

A pumpkin in the dark.

Red sits up with a growl, and drinks his coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * it's my headcanon that Sans calls Red "pumpkin" because he's short, round, and his magic's a bright, almost orange-y red.


	3. Doing Laundry

“think they’ll smell like your ass the _third_ time you sniff em?” the pile of blankets on Red’s bare mattress asks with false solicitousness. Red’s not really that impressed by Sans’s blanket-defying powers of observation, but he lowers the shorts anyhow as a comeback occurs to him. He brings the unsatisfactory clothing along for the ride.

An hour filled with moans, bullshit, and the jangle of Sans’s collar buckle passes, and Red’s rough phalanges find his dirty shorts again. He dabs at their pelvises lackadaisically.

“there,” he pants. “now they smell like _your_ ass. guess ya better do some laundry.”


	4. Night In

“they bother titling this shitshow?”

Red doesn’t look up from the needle flashing in his fingers, Edge’s ‘specialty clothing’ aproning his broad lap.

“dunno what it’s called.”

Blood splatters; chainsaws howl. Sans sits down.

Red can’t really watch happy endings; whenever they try, Sans sees his expression twist with creeping resentment. Strangers getting good things Red knows he never will, that he doesn’t deserve. Sans can’t watch anything serious, sweats with discomfort at longing looks. People and places reminding him of things only Sans’ll ever know.

The giggle together at red syrup and fake screaming.

This is a good compromise.


	5. Nighttime Routine

Red sighs bracingly, opens the door to Grillby’s.

“h...heya, pumpkinnnnn…”

Red wouldn’t say it’s a _habit._ More like...routine. Sans has more difficulty standing on his own than usual. Red just scoops him up, shortcuts home. Sans's hands roam; Red guides them back to their wheelhouse.

“...ever...worry you’re gonna forget this? f-forget _me_ , if they--”

“shut the fuck up, sweetheart.”

Sans ignores harsh words buried in that buttersoft tone, and Red ignores the spreading wetness on his shoulder. He lets Sans sleep it off right there.

If anyone knows shit’s just like that sometimes, it’s Red.


	6. Shopping (For Needs)

“all fairness, he _toldja_ he’d burn em next time. ‘f he’s anything like _my_ bro-”

“fuck you.”

Sans just giggles.

Red stops abruptly, crimson eyes skewering a plastic package.

Here they are: the cheapest socks money can buy. That fit them. They’re in the children’s section.

“why not get the lacy ones? they’re pretty.” Sans wiggles his own dainty ankle demonstratively, then looks up at Red’s chuckle. He’s tossed the package aside. Sans approaches to see what improved Red’s mood.

“he’s gonna be _so_ fuckin’ jealous,” Red snickers, filling his basket.

The tiny black socks are spangled with red-eyed skulls.


	7. Exercising

Sans pivots to maintain his diagnostic crouch over Red’s prone form, arm calling up a fence of constructs between Red and his assailant. He feels breath on his fingers, doesn’t let relief show on his face. He doesn’t know how they got here, where Red’s from. Doesn’t matter right now. Machine’s in Red’s old basement; they’re already working on getting back home.

_Together_.

His blank sockets spear the latest impediment.

“guess they’re right. you really _are_ what you _make_ ,” Sans rasps.

“And what’s that, shithead?”

Sans grins. Killing is easy. Not-killing is harder, but Sans is a pro.

“a mistake.”


	8. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

“ _ABSOLUTELY_ NOT. NO.”

“problem, paps?” Sans just got here, didn’t even say anything yet. Late enough to have to rush, but he found a few of Red’s things on the floor in time.

He looks at his brother.

Papyrus cocks a judgemental orbital at...Sans’s shirt.

There is a kneeling, naked woman in a “nun’s habit” that covers exactly nothing emblazoned on the front.

She’s masturbating.

“oh,” Sans strangles out. “i, uh, i’m...”

“WHY DON’T YOU GO PUT ON ONE OF MY SHIRTS BEFORE JOINING THE REST OF THE PARTY,” Papyrus suggests dryly.

“i’ll do that, bro.”

Face seething, Sans flees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. that’s a real band shirt
> 
> 2\. the back is arguably worse
> 
> 2\. people have been arrested for wearing it
> 
> 4\. of COURSE Red has one
> 
> https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/the-story-of-the-most-controversial-shirt-in-rock-history-61183/


	9. Nursing The Sick One

Sans doesn’t even lift his head.

“hate ta break it to ya, but i can’t exactly get it up right now.” He shivers and grunts as a freshet of magic sweats from his bones, leaks from his sockets and nasal aperture.

“a lil bird told me….” Red kicks the chair over to the bed and sits. “... _you_ ain’t been _eating_ for him.”

The spicy scent slaps those purple-ringed sockets open. Sans goggles feverishly at Red’s system-scouring Snappy-Papy soup.

“what, you’re gonna nurse me back t’ _health_?”

“ _oh_ , sweetheart...”

Red leans in, grinning sadistically as he unleashes his lowest blow. Sincerity.

“… _yeah_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering if that soup is a purgative-restorative home remedy Red use to make for a formerly-a-sickly-kid Edge, and also possibly where he got his taste for spice...you would be right....


	10. Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using the prompts as chapter titles...but in case you missed it, the one for this drabble was "Hair" XD

Sans holds his breath harder. One snicker will blow the whole operation. He steadies the red lipstick, finishes the ring around Red’s mouth and manages the two lines leading up through slumber-sealed sockets.

Red fell asleep with that fur trim on his hood _just so_ around his bare skull, and once Sans saw it, he couldn’t _unsee_ it. He wipes tears of suppressed laughter quickly, and finally snaps the picture. He barely manages to slap the caption PENNYWISE THE CLOWN on before his devious thumbs send it to heaven.

The reply from Edge is instantaneous.

I OWE YOU MY LIFE


	11. Coffee and/or Tea

“is this, uh, poison or something?”

The amber liquid refuses to divulge its secrets. Sans looks up for an easier nut to crack. Heh. Because his socket’s cracked. Edge leans in, intimidating expression hiding concern.

“WHAT, PRECISELY, ARE YOUR _INTENTIONS_ TOWARDS RED???”

“…you serious right now?

“I _AM_?! PERFECTLY!?! YOU _MUST_ ADMIT THIS IS ALL A BIT...NARCISSISTIC.”

Sans’s gaze drops to Edge’s shirt, embroidered by hand with dozens of tiny, red-eyed skulls. And the talented hands that embroidered them have already been down Sans’s shorts...dozens of times.

Sans covers his sockets, Edge sputtering indignantly as Sans cracks _up_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JSYK Edge was just worried because he sniffed out Red catching feelings, and he figured this was how you Do That Conversation


	12. Cooking Together

Sans sighs down into the pot, narrows his sockets when the smell blows back.

“think the tuna’s where it all went wrong?”

Red scratches his broad chin, picks at his prosthetic tooth. “...nah. think it was the peanut butter. wanna jus’ throw it in the ‘dog machine?”

“c’mon, man,” Sans says gently as he pokes at the pasty, dissolving ramen noodles. “…kids eat those.”

“guess we gotta bury it,” Red suggests, his sharp fingertip sadly disemboweling a canned pea. “can’t go in the disposal, the smell is...”

Their eyes meet; their gasp and its exhale is perfectly synchronized.

“…. _undyne_ ….!”


	13. Washing Dishes

“ohh….he’s gettin’ cocky with it, folks…” Red breathes delightedly. Sans’s paper plate hovers above the precarious stack on the coffee table. “whaddawe got under there? here’s the play by play...” Sans makes the plate swarm around like an airplane landing. “got cheese slice wrappers from last tuesday….last night’s chicken bones….can’t see em cause i had some pie earlier…. folks, he’s gotta finesse this juuuus’ riiiiight, aa _aa_ and-”

The plate lands.

The stack falls over.

“--aaand he fumbles it!!” Red bellows, hugging Sans and rolling him back and forth on top of him while Sans groans dramatically.


	14. Homework and/or Job Work

Red stops sewing when he hears Sans shortcut into the bathroom and start the shower. He grabs a few things, pops upstairs and gets in bed. Turns on something loud, stupid, and half over, like he’s been here for hours.

Sans crawls in bed with him silently, bones hot with scouring. After a while, Red nudges an inquisitive femur in Sans’s subpubic angle. He’s here for whatever Sans needs; shoulder to cry on, legs to forget between, arms to hold him. Turns out today he needs all three.

He’ll ask Toriel how the Judgement went later, but he can guess.


	15. Family Visits

“I LOVE WHAT YOU’VE DONE WITH THE PLACE.”

Edge toes the untouched mountain of Red’s belongings in the room’s center like a corpse.

“well, that ain’t your _problem_ now. is it, _boss_ ,” Red hisses.

Edge scoffs. “AS IF I’D LET MY OWN BROTHER BE EATEN ALIVE BY THE RATS HIS FILTH ATTRACTS.”

The wibble in Red’s expression isn’t there; Edge just knows him. He palms his brother’s head like a basketball.

“COME BACK FOR _ANY_ REASON, _ANY_ TIME,” he says quickly. “I WON’T ASK.”

Red’s silent.

“I’LL BE BACK THURSDAY TO CLEAN. NO EXCEPTIONS.”

Edge knocks on his forehead and leaves.


	16. Trying Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [mild description of a trauma response]  
> anyhoo the next few will have sex things jsyk

Sans hits the panic snap the second Red’s eye lights shrink, even before the _lemme_ _GO_ snarls out through sharp teeth.

He holds one femur lightly so Red doesn’t take a reflexive shortcut to his brother bareassed, dodges, then recklessly enters Red’s guard and hugs him. Sans takes his struggling hand and puts it on the collar. Struggles turn to silent weeping, and Sans just holds him.

There’s a choked hiccup after a long time.

“’m stupid fer--”

“you aren’t anything, pumpkin,” Sans interrupts quietly. “we tried it, and you didn’t like it. s’okay not to like things.”


	17. Kisses

“…hey.”

Sans doesn’t open his sockets, doesn't answer. Sans _has_ done it all, just…never from this direction. Bigger difference than he thought.

Red exhales tightly.

“i wouldn’t have toldja either.” Somehow, that helps. “still wanna?”

“…yeah.”

Red sets his nasal aperture over Sans’s, presses their teeth together. He inhales Sans’s breath; Sans does the same when Red exhales. One breath, shared in and out.

“it’s just like that, sweetheart...” Sans doesn’t need cutesy bullshit, but his shivering calms anyways.

When Red inhales his moan, Sans realizes Red’s easing back and forth, following the tide of Sans’s deepening breaths.


	18. Hugs

Red stops rubbing his face with a sigh. “honeypot dumped ‘im again.”

Sans shrugs. “he’ll be back.”

“...yeah.” Red doesn’t seem encouraged. “he doesn’t get it.” Stretch thinks the collar’s about Edge staking a claim, gets angry when Edge won’t sleep over. Edge is too proud to explain.

Red welcomes Sans’s approach, lets him wrap his arms around him. His own magic in the collar means Sans= _safe_ even if he’s not family, even when Red can’t hear, can’t talk. Asleep, sick, wounded…terrified.

Red nuzzles the collar, lets himself melt into Sans’s embrace.

Later, Sans drops a word through the grapevine.


	19. Forgetting Something

Red tugs hard on the straps. These are soft on the inside, and so’s the blindfold.

More reassuring is that they’re _Red’s_. Sansy’s idea, done up just like the collar. A few sweaty sessions of Red alone, pushing wishes into buttery leather. His own permission, given in advance, to _let_ himself feel this.

The distillation of hopes Red thought amputated long ago turns hot panting along his vertebrae _exciting_ , fingertips exploring Red’s pitted scars _tender_ , Sans’s pleasured groans into something _shared_.

Red forgets what this used to feel like.

He lets Sans fill his invisible divots with razor-sharp sweetness.


	20. A Heated Argument

The kitchen door slams shut behind Red and Sans. Papyrus turns to Undyne.

“WE SHOULD LEAVE IMMEDIATELY.” Crockery breaks. Wowie. Papyrus didn’t think they had any left. Red bellows, Sans snipes.

“But they’re _fighting_!” Undyne cries. “What if...”

Papyrus stands at the thud-clack of an offscreen collision and stalks to the window.

“fuck!”

Undyne leaps up at another thud, face creased with confused concern. Sweet, naive Undyne.

“ _fuck_!”

“Papyrus, we should---”

“ _o_ _h_ _hh_ fuck... ohhhh, fuu _uuu_ ck….”

Papyrus has never been one to leave any so untold.

“I TOLD YOU SO,” he says flatly, then rolls out the window.


	21. Road Trips

‘Russy takes another deep breath. The second verse _is_ , in fact, the same as the first. And mixed with Red’s hangover, whole _lot_ worse. Red fumes; he doesn’t get why _Edge_ gets to ride back from Vegas with Undyne and Alphys.

“make ‘im stop,” he whines. Sans, the heartless bastard, just shakes his head.

“i’d say it’s ‘cause a the incident, but…” Sans hisses through his lazy grin. “maybe keep it to _one_ incident next time.”

The hot tub incident. The buffet incident. The improvised crowbar slot machine incident.

Red doesn’t take his medicine gracefully, but he takes it nevertheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to popular demand, I will explain the incidents. Not everyone has been to Vegas, after all.
> 
> Red spent his entire time in Vegas varying degrees of drunk. Sans felt like he couldn’t say shit due to his own intermittent benders. Papyrus, however, said plenty. Once Red ran out of excuses, he replaced words with defiant, silent eye contact while continuing to do the thing.
> 
> 1\. Red refused to wear clothing in the hot tub, insisting “I’m a skeleton, there’s nothing to see.” He then proceeded to prove himself wrong whenever someone turned on the jets. Every time.
> 
> 2\. Red would not stop taking the steam table pans (the metal bins they put buffet food into to keep it hot) out of the buffet and bringing them back to the table. Sans and Papyrus tried to get him to stop, but he continually cited he lack of signage that forbade it, as well as the “all you can eat” aspect. Then he began standing and waiting for the servers to bring out additional pans of his favorites, and taking those. To his credit he did in fact eat everything in the pans.
> 
> 3\. Breaking into a slot machine with a crowbar is super easy. You just pry off the panel and take the cash box. The issue is running away fast enough.  
> Red, at his drunkest point, used a bone attack to do it. He then just stood there staring at the cash box because he definitely did not think that would work.  
> Sans made it over before security to defuse the situation. Since Red didn’t actually do anything else, and Sans made a show of being concerned about Red’s pelvis in a way that implied it was an embarrassing bodily function, they left after Sans started stage whispering about Red’s “bone pills.”
> 
> Only Edge would have felt emboldened enough to physically restrain Red from these activities, but once he saw the pachinko he would not be moved for the entirety of their three day trip. It was actually _Red_ who had to remove _him_ once it was time to go home. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and Edge might have returned very rich if it wasn’t for the fact that pachinko isn’t gambling in Vegas, but rather a game offered in the children’s arcade.  
> He did exchange his tickets and return home with a electric motorized children’s racecar, which he gave to Frisk.


	22. Picnics

Sans stops dead, checks.

So does...Sans.

“you’re... _me_? how’d-”

“how the fuck should _i_ know?”

More monsters are exiting the barrier than had been inside it.

“me neither,” Sans says quickly, rummaging in his pockets. Other Sans needs to eat _now_ or he’s gonna dust. He produces a bottle of...wait, that’s not ketchup--

The other Sans snatches it, guzzles it, wipes his teeth with the back of his sleeve. There’s something soft in those fierce eyes for a split second; Sans spends the next year believing he imagined it.

They duck down and touch the grass together.

“….weird...”


	23. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [depression, serious illness]

If there’s one smell Red knows, it’s dust.

Red snatches Sans’s hand from under the covers. Rubbing increases it.

“how long has this been goin’ on??”

Papyrus let Red take point, thank stars. Shortcut keeps the door whole.

“doesn’t matter,” Sans drones. “paps got to see the sun. that’s all i cared about.” Past tense.

“fuck you,” Red snarls. He hauls Sans upright, makes him _talk_. Alphys and Undyne meet them at Grillby’s later. They make it weekly.

Sans is hopeless after a year of freedom? They’re not close, but Sans is still _him_.

He doesn’t _get_ to just _quit_.


	24. Shopping (For Fun)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [depression, disordered eating]

“~ _that ass~_ weighs a fuckin’ ton.”

“i know you are, but what am i?” Sans mumbles, half asleep on Red’s shoulders.

“lazy piece a shit, that’s what,” he mutters. “wanna burrito?”

This is Sans’s favorite shop, overflowing with temptations.

“….nah.”

Sans keeps forgetting to eat. It’s been two days.

“ _pick_ somethin’, sweetheart.”

“sure, why not?”

Red sees what Sans is pointing at and growls. Five burritos, a six pack, coupla slim jims just in case, _then_ Red snatches up the stupid candy.

“sweet _and_ tart, jus’ like me,” Sans coos.

It’s not figurative. Red blushes in front of the clerk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SweetTarts](https://www.sweetartscandy.com/ajax/Original/products.html)


	25. Keeping Plants

Red wipes tears on his sleeve.

“th’ fuck did you _get_ this thing?” he wheezes, brandishing the tiny pot at Sans again.

“nunya,” Sans croons. Papyrus bought several at a horticulture convention.

“it’s a _butt…!_ ”

Sans plucks it from Red’s mirth-weakened fingers as he rolls up again, cackling.

“s’called lithops, actually.” Sans grins at the tiny succulent. He has it on good authority (again, Papyrus) that this plant can be ignored with impunity for a year or two. It’s perfect. There’s a little bud starting in the cleft between the two plump halves.

“sides. looks way more like a cunt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lithops!!](https://succulentsbox.com/blogs/blog/how-to-care-for-lithops)


	26. Doctor Visits

“I c-c-can use the big p-patch kit. It’ll hold.”

Sans doesn’t show his relief externally, but Red still shoots him a baleful glare. The old crack in Red’s spine had been growing wider, even if no one except Sans ever sees it.

Red’s split-second agonized expression when Sans’s distal phalanx had found it accidentally during an especially energetic romp had led to a threat that he wouldn’t let Red top anymore unless his ass introduced itself to the seat it’s currently in.

Alphys didn’t react when Red took his shirt off, either. That helped a lot to keep it there.


	27. Pets

Sans cuddles Red, watches Gus slime his way between phalanges. The little snail reaches out _so_ far to grab the next one. Never gives up.

Red’s complaining about his brother again. Thing is, Edge only burns things Red’s tried and failed to fix dozens of times, and can’t throw away. Red can’t throw _anything_ away, Sans realized eventually.

“why keep somethin’ that’s jus’ gonna die in a year or two?”

Sans is good at hiding his hurt. Instead, he takes Red’s hand and shows him why.

A month later, he comes home and Red’s playing with Gus on his own.


	28. Vacation

Red loves this view. His own fingers bent forward and back, woven like a basket through Sans’s ulna and radius to hold both wrists in one hand. Sans’s trembling phalanges grasping at nothing make a lovely frame for Van Gogh’s _Head of a Skeleton With a Burning Cigarette_. Sans is determined to be quiet, and Red’s equally committed to preventing it.

“shh….don’t wanna get _caught_ , do we, sweetheart?”

The low, ragged noise Sans makes when he comes isn’t any louder than usual… or quieter, either. No one discovers them, so Red decides to see if he can get an encore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hey...that's not discreet at ALL!](https://artsandculture.google.com/streetview/van-gogh-museum-groundfloor/2QHwyv_Y6gueAw?sv_lng=4.8813261&sv_lat=52.3583477&sv_h=227.0216363136021&sv_p=-6.356724418941312&sv_pid=5oQg4SF9-C-aZyK1YupHpA&sv_z=1)


	29. House Cleaning

Red appears in the living room, sees one of their brothers came over in their absence to do a little “TIDYING UP”. He knows it was Russy and not Edge, since there are several boxes labeled “???” sitting around, instead of the acrid tang of chemical smoke.

Red pounces on the squat flower arrangement, pulls out paper.

THANK YOU FOR TAKING CARE OF HIM

Tears fall on the note. Hyperventilating, he shortcuts upstairs and shoves it under the mattress like it’s a baggie of crack, scrubbing at his sockets. Red doesn’t do jack shit. If anything, Sans is saving _him_.


	30. I Love You's

“it’s not _fine_ ,” Red says tonelessly, staring at the wall. “might kill ya by accident.”

“c’mon, Red--”

“dead’s _dead_ , sweetheart, no matter how ya got there.”

Red’s hand’s in his pocket, but Sans can see it shaking. Welp, dumping someone’s never easy. Sans _kn_ _e_ _w_ , he--

Red’s hand appears abruptly, twisting at a buckled strip of leather. Red sweats and shakes, won’t look at him as he finally tosses it on the table. Sans knows what it is.

“hey.”

Red looks, can’t hold back a noise. It’s already around Sans’s throat.

“you _sure_ , sweetheart?”

“yeah. now fuck me.”


	31. Bonus: Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Order: Chapter 30, Chapter 17, Chapter 31.

Red pulls out, but Sans holds on.

“you didn’t get yours yet.”

New leather weights Sans’s delicate throat, already more than enough.

“i gotta go hard for that. hurts if you’re not used to it.”

“don’t care. i wanna feel it.”

Sans pulls Red’s hand to the collar; they grip the leather’s heady meaning together. Sans holds his gaze and guides Red back in. Obedient, Red goes hard.

Sans comes again quick and whimpering, yanks Red down and _says it_.

Red breaks, shakes, overflows. He spills hot magic inside Sans’s tender opening, reckless promises against his skull.

He keeps them all.


End file.
